Bliss
by imromytrash
Summary: The morning after the wedding in X-Men Gold #30. Rogue ponders. Romy. One-shot.


_**Author's Notes** :_ _AHHHH CAN YOU GUYS BELIEVE IT? 27 years and it finally FINALLY came down to this! It's still pretty hard for me to fathom it at times; Mr and Mrs LeBeau is a thing now, it's really comicbook canon. I'm super super excited for Mr and Mrs X and the fact that it's an on-going (the 5-part mini was WAY too short). This one-shot is my interpretation of some bits of the wedding and the morning after which I believe will be covered in #1 of M &MX as mentioned by Ms Kelly Thompson (the wedding bits at least). Some parts of it are canon; some of it I tweaked a little or what I hope will appear in the on-going. I'm still not confident in my writing at all but I really really wanted to channel my excitement after learning about their marriage into something positive and share it with like-minded people like you guys. Lousy writing be damned! Hope you guys enjoy it! Reviews are GREATLY appreciated _

_P.S. What are you guys looking forward to the most/hope to see in Mr and Mrs X? I hope we get some look into their downtime, we've never really gotten that with them after all this time huh?_

 **Bliss**

The morning was quiet; the only sounds, barely audible, were the rhythmic percussion of gentle waves, soft against the sandy shore. The sun had once again reigned supreme over the sky, bathing the landscape in its iridescent light, the ocean a glistening blue. Rogue listened to the steady breathing of the man lying asleep next to her; the sound in tandem with the rise and fall of his chest. A beacon of light had pierced through the drawn blinds, casting thin golden strips across his face.

Rogue had spent the last couple of minutes since she rose to wakefulness observing him, imprinting every minute detail of her husband's perfectly-sculpted features to memory. _Her husband._ It felt surreal to her to even utter those words. Here she was, at twenty-six years of age, married to the love of her life. A _wife_ she was—a title she had earned when Remy LeBeau dropped down on his knees last night and pledged his love and devotion to her and _only_ her. It had caught her by surprise, to say the least. But amidst the plethora of feelings coursing through her veins as she listened quietly, patiently, to his spontaneous proposal, the answer was clear. Everything they had endured—every obstacle, every fight, every break-up, every minute spent apart—amounted to this very moment. She was ready for it and she had wanted it. So bad. Everything that followed afterward was hazy; she recalled bits and pieces of the night: Ororo and Betsy re-touching her tear-stained makeup, her asking Bobby and Kurt to be up there with her, Kitty granting her well wishes, and a surprise exchange with Mystique who had somehow infiltrated the ceremony. Time had seemingly sped up in response to the rush of adrenaline and euphoria she had struggled to contain. The only exception was seeing Remy at the altar. At that moment, nothing and no one else had existed—it was just them, as it should have always been, and the promise of a future together. She had held his gaze as he professed his undying love for her, seeing it reflected in those very same ruby orbs she had fallen in love with all those years ago. She recalled her own vows, raw and genuine, delivered with the utmost sincerity and gratitude.

"… _I promise you, that no matter what, I'll always find my way back to you. You're my home and my harbour. Nothing in the world can ever change that."_

After the ceremony, they had declined Piotr's generous offer of what was intended to be his and Kitty's honeymoon suite, out of respect for the former couple. Instead, with the help Illyana, they had requested to be brought to Paraiso, now bought over by Worthington Industries as a (legitimate) getaway for mutants. They had been specific in choosing the island paradise for their wedding night; after all, it was here that they broke down the walls that had been keeping them apart for far too long, ultimately bringing them to this point. With the tenderness and slowness that almost resembled their first coupling in Antarctica a lifetime ago, they made love late into the night as husband and wife—the deepest love she had ever felt.

Now, Rogue raised a finger following the trail of stubbles that lined her husband's cheek. She loved watching him sleep; it was one of the rare times seeing Remy with his guard down. With his long, dark, curled lashes lining his lids and the slight pout of his lips, he looked so innocent—a shell of a man who had not seen, _lived,_ through the monstrosity of the world. Sometimes, she found herself longing for the boyish charm that had first taken her in the first time at Muir Island. He was older now, at twenty-nine, burdened by the weight of a world who feared and hated him. Though he might had lost his boyish appeal, it certainly did not make him any less charming. Rogue studied him closely. His chiseled jaw, the roughness of his stubbles, his sun-kissed olive skin, the thickness of his eyelashes and his strong, lean muscles; his features forming the identikit image of the perfect man. God, he was beautiful. Remy knew he was attractive, flaunted it even but Rogue often wondered if he knew how beautiful he really was. Would their kids look more their father or her? Her thoughts halted to a stop. _Kids? Slow down, girl._ She mentally chided herself. It hadn't even been 24 hours since they swore their commitment to each other and she was already thinking about kids. She would be lying though if she said she hadn't thought of them before, even when her powers had long denied her that possibility. In those rare times where she had allowed her thoughts to wander free and unabashed, she had often pictured herself cradling a baby girl in her arms, her red-on-black eyes staring adoringly up at her, her fat chubby fingers grasping her own. But she couldn't let herself think of that right now. Maybe someday, but not today. She wouldn't, _couldn't,_ bring a baby into this world until she regained control over her powers again. She couldn't live her life reliant on a piece of technology designed to suppress her very nature.

Brushing the thought away, her finger continued its trail downwards, stopping at the corner of his bottom lip. Those lips that she had kissed a hundred times over, the softness and taste of them she had long embedded in her memory. She suddenly felt a strong urge to kiss him. Had his lips always looked this kissable? Unable to resist, she planted a soft, chaste kiss on his bottom lip. It was enough to make him stir. Ever the light sleeper. He opened his eyes groggily, a soft smile forming on his lips when he was greeted with the image of his wife staring at him.

"Mornin', handsome," she whispered.

He chuckled softly, stretching his arms and shifting so that he was resting on his side, his body mirroring hers. "Tell me this isn't a dream, _chere_." His voice was heavy with sleep. "Tell me that last night really happened."

"I would show you my ring to prove it but you have yet to get me one," she joked, her arm snaking around his waist as she inched closer.

He let out a small laugh, kissing her briefly on her lips. "I'll get right to that, your Highness." A comfortable silence fell between them as he studied her face as she did to him before. "We're really doing this, huh?" he spoke up after a while, more of a statement than a question.

"We are."

"Then I really am the luckiest man in de whole goddamn world right now."

"Can't be all that lucky," she whispered, her hand touching the bulky metal contraception on her neck, her eyes downcast.

Gently, he brought his hand to her chin and nudged her face back to him. "Hey, we're not doing that today, okay?" His voice was calm, patient.

"I know. I'm sorry." And she really was. The old insecurity of not being able to touch was hard to bite down. Though he had proved time and time again that her skin had never been a barrier in his capacity to love her, the thought of not being able to touch him had never really left her mind. Sure, they had experimented a handful of times whilst fully clothed but those moments—restrictive, careful and planned—paled in comparison to the liberating feel of his bare skin against hers, of his soft lips marking her body, his deft fingers igniting her skin ablaze. "I'll get help for my powers. Get it under control somehow. For us."

"We'll do it together," he reassured her. "I'll help you every step of the way. We'll take things slow, one at a time. I know the collar isn't your first choice. We don't have to use it if you don't want to. I'll go with anything you're comfortable with." He held her gaze, a look of sincerity evident in his eyes. "We'll figure something out, _chere._ I promise."

Stroking her fingers gently along his jawline, she brought her lips to his in a soft, languid kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Remy showered his wife with kisses, covering her body with his. And for a long time, the kisses did not stop.

* * *

Afterwards, they laid together, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, Rogue tucked snugly at Remy's side.

"So you'll move into my apartment in the meantime while we look for a new home together?"

"That's the plan," Rogue nodded in agreement.

"What about our honeymoon? Where would you like to go? Paris?"

She raised her head from where it was cradled in the crook of his neck to look down at him. "Could you get any more predictable, Cajun?"

Remy threw her an offended look. Rogue continued. "We had an unconventional wedding as far as weddings go. That means our honeymoon needs to be a little less… cliché."

"Alright then, surprise me."

She pursed her lips as she mentally searched for a string of options before settling on one. "What about… space?"


End file.
